Reckless Rescue (23 page)

But what other choice was there?

“I’m sorry, Tyris.” Her eyes were haunted. “No matter how much I tell myself that I can stay detached and be ready for it, it will hurt. And I can’t do that again. Everyone around me is fooling themselves with the same thought, but out of all the pairings, so few babies have been born. It is time for everyone here to face the facts. We are a dying race, and we need to stop fighting it.”

Tyris frowned. Normally Marlee was so optimistic. She faced the trials of life here on the edge of space, cut off from civilization with joy and positivity. Giving up like this wasn’t like her at all.

But the words she uttered were so final, so definite. He recalled the conversation with Nerris about how few babies were born. They all knew it, from the original refugees through to those who were born here. But they all ignored it. Why?

Hope.

Without hope, they had no reason to get up in the morning, no reason to plant this year’s crops. Without hope, they would all give up.

But how much longer could hope alone sustain them?

T
YRIS HEAVED ANOTHER SHOVELFUL OF
snow over his shoulder and swore. If he never saw another snowdrift it would be too soon. But snow kept falling and falling, and if it wasn’t shovelled, it would cover the village.
At least, that’s what it felt like. And
since winter was only half over, there would be many more snowdrifts to come.

All around the village, others did the same thing, though some had stopped to lean on their shovels and chat. A few surreptitious glances were being thrown in his direction.

He scowled then glanced behind him to where Marlee talked to Beren, just out of earshot. Hadn’t the villagers found something else to talk about yet? Were they still debating if the two of them were sleeping together, or had they moved on to discussing why Marlee wasn’t announcing her pregnancy yet?

He wondered how long the fascination would last. Hopefully, they’d find something else to talk about when winter ended. Because Marlee wasn’t going to be giving them a pregnancy any time soon.

He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved that Marlee still avoided the topic. He hadn’t been brave enough to start it himself, so the answer was probably relieved. Sometimes though, he lay awake at night, wondering if he was making a big mistake.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a far too cheerful voice interjected.

He didn’t need to turn to recognize Jaimma. “You don’t have a penny. Do you even know what one is?” he asked.

Jaimma’s shovel hit the snow beside him, and gratitude at the help cancelled out any lingering annoyance at her intrusion. “No, but I don’t think you’d take me up on the offer of a kiss, so it will have to do,” she said cheerfully.

Taken aback by what he could only describe as flirting, he looked over towards Marlee. The surprise must have been written on his face because Jaimma laughed.

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on trying to steal you from Marlee. Not unless she’s finished with you anyway.”

Despite her being Marlee’s best friend, apparently Tyris didn’t know Jaimma that well. He cleared his throat, not sure what to say to that.

Jaimma didn’t seem to have any trouble finding words. “So, has Marlee mentioned that it’s her birthday in a couple of days?” She threw another shovelful of snow over her shoulder.

Tyris stared at her. “Birthday?”

“Guess not,” Jaimma said. “I figured she wouldn’t. We’re planning a party at the hall. Kind of a surprise, though I’m sure she can guess. We were wondering if we could count on you making sure she turns up at the right time.”

“Of course,” Tyris managed, still a little surprised that Marlee hadn’t so much as mentioned her birthday. She must have known he would find out. “What sort of party?”

“Oh, there’ll be some food, music, probably dancing, and a cake of course. It’s kind of an excuse for a big get together. Takes everyone’s mind off the snow.”

“Anything that takes your mind off the snow is a good thing,” Tyris said with feeling.

Jaimma laughed. “So can you bring her around just after the sun goes down?”

“Sure, no worries,” Tyris agreed. Then a sudden thought curdled the pit of his stomach. “Um, will there be presents?”

Jaimma leaned in close, even though Marlee stood quite a distance away. “Yasmyn, Janey, and I have been working on a dress for her. She’s going to love it.”

“I’m sure she will,” Tyris’s brain was working feverishly. What could he give her?

It would’ve been easy on Urslat. He would have ducked down the shop and bought her jewellery. No, scratch that, he would have bought Milandra jewellery. For Marlee, he would search out a book or perhaps some of the beautiful yarn he remembered seeing in one of his grandma’s magazines.

But daydreaming about what he would buy her on Urslat was pointless. He wasn’t on Urslat. Here there were no stores to buy things from. Here people made things, like the dress Jaimma mentioned. Only he lacked any useable skills in making stuff.

Jaimma continued to shovel snow next to him, and Tyris let the monotonous work occupy his hands while his brain continued to create and discard ideas for a present for Marlee.

A child of around five or six, came bounding across the snow, so bundled up against the cold she looked round as a ball. Tyris stopped and leaned on the end of the shovel, waiting. Marlee and Beren joined them, as the girl reached them.

“Jenka is in labour,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes shone.

“Thank you for letting us know” Marlee’s voice held a note of supressed excitement. The girl nodded and bounced off towards the next group of people. Jaimma and Beren headed off after her.

Well that was a short lived interruption. Tyris picked up the shovel and cut into the snow again.

Marlee looked over the path critically. “That’ll do for now. We can finish it later.”  Her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks looked rosy. “We need to head over to the hall.”

“Why? We’re not going to be there at the birth are we?” Tyris asked, aghast. He didn’t know much about birth, but he’d seen enough in movies to know he didn’t want to be present.

Marlee laughed. “Of course not. Jenka will have Karla and her mother and sister there to help her. And Rejan of course. Her room would be far too crowded if the whole village tried to fit in.”

Tyris let out his breath. “Then why do we need to go to the hall?”

“A new baby being born is exciting, and it doesn’t happen too often,” Marlee explained. “It can be a risky process, so everyone waits at the hall for news and updates and to support Jenka in thought, if not in presence.”

That didn’t sound so bad. A day hanging out with the villagers, chatting and waiting. It would be a pleasant change to shovelling snow. It might even be fun.

If anyone had suggested three months ago that he would consider hanging out with the villagers as a pleasant pastime, he would have probably sniggered. How things had changed.

He followed Marlee inside, putting the shovels away as she opened the cupboard. “Can you bring the bread and cake I made earlier?” she asked him, not pausing in her rummaging.

Tyris carefully wrapped the bread and cake in a dry cloth then waited. Marlee finally emerged from the cupboard holding something resembling a small,  red ball. Tyris raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a candle.” She held it out to show him, and he could see the short white wick sticking out of the top. “Everyone brings a special candle to light. We keep them burning until the baby is born.”

“But I don’t have one?” It didn’t make sense to feel left out simply because he hadn’t known of the need to have a special candle, but he did anyway.

Marlee frowned for a moment then her face brightened. She handed him the red candle and returned to the cupboard. This time she bought out a small pillar candle. The wick was black, but it was still nearly as large as the red one. “I used this one for the Brenda’s youngest daughter’s birth, two years ago. She birthed quickly, so there’s still plenty of life left in it.”

Tyris held out the red candle to swap, but Marlee shook her head. “You keep it. I’ll use this one.”

Tyris warmed at her kind gesture. She could very easily have kept the best candle, she’d probably worked hard to make it, but she gave it to him without thought, wanting to make sure he didn’t feel uncomfortable.

He owed her so much. He’d never make it up to her, though he certainly planned to try.

Marlee collected her knitting, and they walked across to the hall. Tyris smiled as villagers flooded in from all directions. How wonderful for Jenka to have so much support. He’d never given the process much thought, but if movies and television were anything to go by, he suspected that on Urslat only the couple involved and perhaps a parent were even aware of the event.

The villagers may not have many children, but those who were born were loved right from the start, not just by their immediate families, but by all those around them. A sliver of loneliness touched his heart. Had he ever felt loved? His parents had always been busy. He and Kerit knew they cared, in an abstract sort of way, but not like this. He couldn’t imagine even his extended family looking forward to his birth the way the entire community looked forward to this child’s.

Inside the hall a flurry of activity greeted them. On a table in one corner, candles already stood burning. Women arranged food on another table in the middle of the room. Tyris added the cake and bread they brought to the apple pie, cakes, and biscuits already there. Yasmyn and Janey cut vegetables and dried meat into cubes and added them to a large pot over the fire. Tyris’s mouth watered at the thought of the soup that would be ready later.

He and Marlee crossed to the table with the candles. Marlee lit her candle by holding it against the largest central one and placed it with the others. He copied her as she explained, “The central candle is made especially for births. Someone from Jenka’s family lit it when her contractions first started.”

Small customs, but ones that tied a community together.

Tyris placed his candle solemnly next to Marlee’s. One day, the village would be gathered lighting candles for Marlee’s baby. He strongly believed it, could see it clearly in his mind. And in that picture, he wasn’t here lighting a candle. He sat beside her, holding her hand and encouraging her. The image both disconcerted him and sent a tingle down his spine at the same time.

He reached for Marlee’s hand and bumped into hers as she reached for him. He smiled down at her, a little misty eyed.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s go sit down. It could be a long wait.”

They sat by the fire on a pile of cushions. Marlee, Jaimma, and several other young women knitted, discussing patterns and stitches. It was incomprehensible to Tyris. He leaned on one elbow, chatting with Nerris, consciously aware of his legs resting gently against Marlee’s. It was comfortable, easy, relaxing. He may even have fallen asleep for a while, not that he would admit it.

He dragged himself up when Marlee suggested they get something to eat. As he filled his wooden bowl with soup and a generous chunk of bread, something moved just outside one of the windows.

He frowned. He dipped his bread into his soup and ate it as he walked over to the window to peer out.

Drifts of white snow glittered in the light from the window. Tyris glanced around. What had he seen?

He looked down. Jenka’s partner, Rejan, sat just below the windowsill, with his back against the wall. His head hung in a dejected slump. Marlee came up to Tyris’s elbow and silently looked down with him, her face a picture of worry.

“Rejan? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Jenka?” She kept her voice low. Tyris looked around, but no one in the hall seemed to notice the conversation.

Rejan didn’t look up. “He sent me away.” Sadness and hopelessness filled his words.

Tyris didn’t even need to ask who sent him away. He could clearly remember Jenka’s father’s opinion of Rejan. The expression on Marlee’s face urged him to do something. Tyris dunked his bread into the soup one last time, swallowed it, and handed the bowl to Marlee. “Give me a minute,” he said, and he ducked out of the doors, into the snow.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said to Rejan.

The young man hesitated, but he plainly had nothing better to do. He heaved himself up, and followed Tyris through the gently falling snow. The paths in the village formed a ring as they lead from one house to the next, and Tyris paced around it, needing the movement to keep warm.

“How is Jenka going?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Rejan’s said. “She seems to be struggling and crying a lot. Is that normal for having a baby?”

Tyris didn’t know. “Does her mother seem worried?”

Rejan tipped his head to one side for a moment then shook his head. “Not worried exactly. But she’s strained.”

“I’m sure that’s normal,” Tyris reassured him. “Jenka will be fine.” He winced inwardly. He shouldn’t be giving such assurances when he knew nothing about any of this.

“I just want to be there with her!” Rejan’s voice rose. He stuck out his bottom lip and shoved his hands into his pockets.